No Signs of Warning
by tpijap
Summary: It starts on Nate's birthday. He's searching for Vanessa and finds her instead. A/U DB fic starting right after Chuck sells Blair for the hotel.
1. Chapter 1

This was inspired by re-watching some season 3 episodes. It's an essentially an AU version of the events following 3x17 (the infamous Hotel Incident) to the season 3 finale—with an extreme Dair tilt.

Obviously, having some knowledge of the episodes will be helpful. But the most important things to know are: Chuck sells Blair for a hotel (obviously); Dan and Vanessa are dating, but in tension over their writing careers; Nate and Serena are dating.

This first part takes place during Nate's birthday mafia/scavenger hunt. I've changed some of the logistics to make the storyline work.

* * *

_My hazard lights were on  
Couldn't cut through the storm  
And you were right there waiting  
For my cover to fall, I didn't see you at all_

**Part I/III**

It starts on Nate's birthday. He's searching for Vanessa and finds her instead.

She's swallowed in this thick, dark coat, her cheeks are red, and for a moment he's just following her through the double doors without thinking.

Chuck's there.

Which is enough reason for Dan to instinctively turn to leave, but he's sucked into the conversation before he can stop himself.

"_Please tell me Jack was lying,_" Blair's saying, "_You wouldn't betray me like that?_"

"_Me betray you?"_

He rolls his eyes—more ChuckandBlair games. Yet, it's the strain in Blair voice that keeps him from leaving, and then Chuck's words which pin him there:

"_You're the one who just came from seeing my uncle."_

That's twisted, Dan thinks, even for them. Yet, mostly, he's wondering how Blair ended up in a hotel room with Chuck's uncle alone in the first place, so he's already tense when she speaks again.

Her voice is breaking.

"_I went there for you."_

The rest of the words start crashing together in his ears, because he can't even process what he's hearing. She sacrificed herself for Chuck's hotel? Chuck _sold her_ for his hotel?

She cries, "_No_," like her world's shattering and there's this tightness spreading in his in his chest. It's weird, but he thinks of Jenny, who's inexplicably become Blair's protégé. He thinks of maybe Jenny standing there, too, on top of all the other emotions pulling in his gut.

So when Chuck says, "_You went up there on your own"_, Dan's fist smashes into his face without even thinking.

For a moment, all he feels is raw satisfaction.

"_Humphrey!_"

He blinks. Then turns towards Blair, who's staring back at him with a look stuck between shock and indignation.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asks.

"I…" He swallows and shakes his head. "I don't know."

He glances at Chuck doubled over on the floor and there's that pulling in his chest again. He straightens as he turns back to Blair. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes flicker with surprise and for a moment she just stands there, frozen. Then her face crumples.

"It's not what it looks like, Humphrey," he hears Chuck groan from behind him.

"So you didn't just sell Blair for a hotel?"

Blair's voice hitches and Chuck's back on his feet in an instant and in Dan's face. In the back of his head, he tries to remember if he's ever been in a real fight, one that's lasted longer than a lone strike, but he's itching to try it out.

"Stop it," Blair cries, her voice cutting through tears and for a moment both boys are still.

Chuck's still has his coat bunched up in a fist and Blair takes another step towards him, almost whispering, "Chuck, please. Just go."

There's a flash of a genuine pain on his on Chuck's face, and then the usual, cool smirk as he releases Dan with a grunt. "She'll come to her senses."

For a moment, Dan imagines pummeling him again, but the sound of Blair sniffling behind him keeps him still. When Chuck exists through the revolving doors, Dan turns back toward her, waits for her to tell him to leave, too.

She doesn't.

She bites her lip, like she's holding back more tears and she's watching him with these large, dark eyes and he says, "Let me walk you to your door."

His hand reaches for her elbow, almost instinctively, but she jerks away.

"No," she says, "I don't want to be touched right now."

When she stands there, not moving, her arms folded tightly around her waist, he understands that she doesn't want to be alone either.

* * *

He hails them a cab. When the driver asks, he give his address and when Blair doesn't protest, the night feels somehow even more surreal.

* * *

Dan opens the door to his loft and lets her in.

For a while they just stand in the living room, looking at anything but each other. Then she whispers, "Why are you dressed like a ninja?"

Dan's eyes widen and he suddenly remembers that he's still draped in all back mafia garb, knit cap and all. His cheeks tinge just the slightest and he sighs. "It's…a really, long, lame unimportant story."

"Isn't is always with you?"

She sniffles and wipes away some stray moisture at her lashes. He feels both relief and unnerved that she's able to maintain snark at a time like this.

"You want something to drink?" he asks after a moment, "I could make you some tea?"

"I think I'm gonna need something a little stronger than 'tea' right now, Humphrey."

"Right."

He nods stiffly and then heads into his kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that she's still standing uncertainly in foyer.

"You can take a seat on the couch, if you want. It's super comfy."

Wordlessly, she obliges and he scrambles to find liquor. He has no idea what a woman like Blair Waldorf drinks or that it would even exist in his apartment, but he finally settles on vodka and walks back into the living room.

He sets the drink in front of her and then sits as far as possible from her on the couch.

"Thanks," she mumbles before taking a sip.

Dan watches her with his hands wrestling by his knees. He doesn't know how to have this conversation. He even briefly considers dialing his mom—anyone—for help, before swallowing and pushing forward.

"Listen," he says.

Blair straightens, sending him a wary glance as she sets the glass down.

"If he…if forced you to do anything …" he swallows, pushing past the sickening feelings in his stomach to finish, "…even if at some point you said it was okay, it' still not—"

"Ugh," Blair sticks a hand near his face. " Just stop with the after school special, already, would you? I didn't actually sleep with him."

He blinks. Then this long, shaky breath he hadn't known he'd been hold escapes his throat. Finally, at least just one layer of tension lifts from his shoulders.

Blair's staring at her hands. "We just kissed...and…and then he told me he just wanted to, like, proof some disgusting point and I left."

Her words are swallowed up a little towards the end, making this strange, strangling noise, and when he speaks again, he can feel this rumbling in chest he doesn't recognize. "I hate Chuck Bass so much."

"_Ah."_ She makes a small, surprised sound, almost verging on amusement. "Join the club." She swallows and looks back up at Dan. "But it isn't his fault."

"How can you say that?"

He's angry, not with her, but he knows the emotion must be clear in his voice.

She shakes her head. "_I_ was the one who went up there."

"But you said, Chuck manipulated you into-"'

"I let him manipulate me. If he'd have asked…I would have done it."

Her voices breaks again, so much that it's just barely above a whisper when she finishes, and for a moment, he considers breaking every bone in Chuck's body. Yet he doesn't like that impulse, nor does he think it will help her. He looks back at her from where he's been glaring into the corner and she's crying again. His finger itches to brush the tears from her cheeks, but he knows she won't be receptive. So instead he gathers the quilt from the sofa and slowly, gingerly spreads it around her shoulders.

It feels like the smallest possible gesture in the world, but she pulls it tighter around shoulders.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she whispers after a moment.

He blinks. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Blair ducks her head and lets out this mirthless chuckle. "Seriously, are the Humphreys even from planet earth?"

"We're from the mole people."

She snorts, this time with real amusement. And, although her brow is crinkled with confusion, he feels like he's lifted a mountain for the achievement.

But when, of course, her smile passes again, his eyes darken.

"Do you want me to call Serena or-?"

"No." She cuts him off and he frowns. "I don't know want anyone know about this, about me. Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Blair."

"Promise me or I'll leave right now."

His jaw sets and he seriously considers letting her leave if it means she'll get whatever help she needs. But there's a vulnerability behind the hardness of her glare that stops him.

"Fine."

She sighs, her shoulders relaxing, and sits back on the couch. She rests her head against the cushion and her eyes flutter, like she's suddenly realizing how exhausted she is.

"Maybe I could use some tea," she mumbles.

Dan stands without a word and heads to kitchen.

* * *

They don't talk. Not really. After about another half hour or so, Blair notices _Roman Holiday _propped on his coffee table. He tries to conceal his shock, when she demands he put it in.

"Better that than more insipid silence on the couch with you," she mumbles.

She falls asleep an hour in. He an hour and a half.

When he awakes the next morning, she's already gone. The post-it pressed to his forehead reads: _Tell anyone and die._

* * *

Blair tells Nate apparently. Because he show up at Dan's door later that day, fuming.

"You hold him down or I hold him down? Either way, we're kicking the shit out of him."

There's a moment where they've never been more on one accord.

Some planning and waffles later, they calm down. Just slightly.

* * *

The next time he sees her is the night before Dorota's impromptu wedding. He's in the process of explaining to Nate why this makes sense for the umpteenth time, when she brushes past him.

Or more like _shoves_ past him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't a mistake.

"Don't you dare break your promise," she hisses at him and then walks away.

His brows spike as he watches her. When he turns back, Nate's regarding him with a smirk. "So she trusts you now, that's cool." His voice lowers. "Seriously, though, she will _cut you_ if you cross her."

Nate gives him a pat on the back and leaves him at the bar.

* * *

She and Chuck are dancing with a stupid red balloon pressed between each other and it takes Eleanor yelling at him to get more ice—even though again, he's not working there—for him to realize he's been staring.

On his second ice-run, he passes Blair, pouting and leaning against a table, and with a sigh, he turns around.

"Why are you here with Chuck?"

That wasn't actually what he'd meant to ask, but he can't help it.

She turns and looks him over, arching a brow. "Why are you cater-waitering? I thought you were faux-rich now?"

"I'm not-" he stops himself, feeling an eerily similar sensation to one he'd had while conversing with her mother, "That's not the point. …" He sets the ice down on the table. "Is everything okay?"

_That _was what he'd meant to ask before.

Blair sighs. "It's no big deal really," she mumbles, "I've just realized that I've finally become the horrible, depraved person you always thought I was."

"You and I seriously have different definitions of 'no big deal'."

She huffs, like he's the one being baffling and Dan starts again. Sincerely this time.

"Look, I don't think you're that bad of a person, okay?"

She makes a small "hmppf" and he continues.

"I actually don't think you're a bad person at all."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm-"

"And, you're ice is melting."

She fixes him with a pointed look, as if to indicate that this conversation is ending whether he likes it or not, and then swiftly turns away.

* * *

Blair-and-Chuck implode again.

Which is not surprising, save for the fact that, this time, it's in the middle of Dorota's and Vanya's wedding ceremony.

The only thing more ridiculous than this is that only fifteen minutes later, Blair is back on Chuck's arm, processing down the aisle.

He realizes that he's staring this time and he can't shake the glower.

* * *

Dan finds her after the wedding, after he's seen her dancing and arguing and with Chuck. Again.

She's standing in the middle of the dance floor, exchanging glowers looks with Chuck and—who ever the hell the giant model is standing besides him, when Dan inserts himself in front of her.

"I wanted to clarify something."

She sends him an unimpressed look.

"I get it. You weren't the cater-waiter—you just like to dress and act like one. Are we done here?"

His brow pinches, but he ignores her comment and continues. "I honestly don't think you're a bad person. And even more than that, I think you deserve to be with someone who respects you, who makes you happy."

Blair's eyes have been flitting over his shoulder, at Chuck no doubt, but they suddenly stop and fix on him.

"Is this…" Her face scrunches. "…opposite day or something?"

"Apparently," He says with a wry shrug, "Because I'm about to ask you dance with me."

He extends his hand before he loses the nerve—or insanity—and is surprised when it only takes her a moment to accept.

"Just one dance. And you're welcome."

It's actually three dances.

She feels small and soft and open in his arms, and it's some of the nicest conversation he's had in a while.

Chuck rears his head every now and then with the model on his arm. And every time, Dan (just slightly) pulls her closer.

They don't discuss it.

* * *

The next week, he begins visiting her in her dorm, because yeah, he suddenly realizes, they go to the same school.

The urge to check in on her won't go way, but he can't manage to make it past the threshold of her door, a wall of insults and defense mechanisms barring him.

Except for the one night finally he does—he's holding Breakfast at Tiffany's in his hands.

"That…" she says, lips pursed, "Is acceptable."

* * *

Watching movies with Blair is like watching movies with Serena and Vanessa, and somehow still completely and bizarrely different.

Unlike Serena, she actually appreciates cinema beyond Ryan Gosling or Leo DiCaprio. Like Serena, she finds full-length skirts and heels to be appropriate garb for doing so.

Unlike Vanessa, it's not as comfortable as watching a movie with a best friend. He's still aware that's she's of the opposite sex at all times. Like Vanessa, they have inside jokes about each and every movie within days.

Blair cries during happy scenes, not just the sad ones.

* * *

"You're a really _weird_ guy, Dan," she says in the middle of their third movie night.

He turns from the laptop between them on her mattress, because, one, she just called him 'Dan'; and, two; she's staring at him, inspecting him like a dissected frog or a knockoff Louis Vuitton.

"Um."

"It's just…" She shifts on the headrest so she's facing him entirely and squints, "You haven't tried to hit on me or anything once. Even now," she says, her voice and arms lift with bemusement, "When you've got me on my bed."

Dan straightens and then swallows. "Do-do you _want_ me to hit on you? Because, Blair, I'm sorry, but I'm with Vanessa, and I didn't mean to give you the wrong impress-

She snorts. Then she's laughing, a lot, and he's both relieved and somewhat slighted. It's not like he's a toad or something.

"No, Humphrey, that's the point. I like it. It's different…." Her head tilts. " It's nice."

She's smiling at him, her teeth showing, her eyes unusually warm, and he realizes that, yes, it is nice. At first, it was…well, he's still not exactly sure what it was at first, but he was mostly looking out for her.

But Serena knows now; Nate's known for a while. So he guesses, if he's honest with himself, he's not coming just to comfort her anymore.

"The acting's phenomenal," she says and he realizes that's she completely moved back to the movie, "But some of the writing is abysmal. There's no subtlety."

"Only you would say something so obnoxious about such a classic movie."

"Only you would _be_ so obnoxious about, well, everything."

* * *

She doesn't acknowledge him in public. Sometimes literally.

It aggravates him, though he's not sure why he necessarily thought things would be different.

One day in the dorm, she sends him a curt nod from the across the hall and he decides to dismiss _her_ this time and ignores it, turning in the opposite direction.

When he comes out of Vanessa's room a while later, Blair's finds him in the corridor.

"Plausible deniability," she blurts.

He squints. "What?"

"We're not friends or anything, obviously, so it would just be unnecessarily weird and awkward to have to explain to everyone why we spend time together."

"Who's everyone?"

She huffs and sends him this look, like he's a two-year-old imbecile. "Oh, I don't know, just off the top of my head, Serena, Chuck, Vanessa…'

She seems very agitated as she rattles of these names, and while there is a part of him that instinctively tenses at the mention as well, he's still not sure why she's so worked up about it. Yet, he finds himself somewhat conceding, "I guess it would be kind of hard to explain."

"I can barely explain it to myself," she says throwing her hands up in the air.

His face pinches, and he suddenly finds himself annoyed with her, wondering why she can't be more like Vanessa—simpler, comfortable, without all these intricate, nonsensical hoops an hurdles. God, he realizes, even the shirt she's wearing is unnecessarily complicated and lacy.

But, he just got _Rosemary's Baby_ form the library, which keeps finding its way into his messenger bag every time he's visiting her dorm, and he….

"Makes sense," he mumbles out of nowhere.

Blair's eyes flicker with something akin to relieve and she smiles.

"And, I just uh remembered, there's a movie," he says, "You'd probably enjoying skewering it unfairly."

"I'll text you a time. We can meet in my room again."

"Right."

* * *

"So what?" Vanessa asks him one day while they're at the coffee shop, "Are you and Blair Waldorf like BFFs now?"

He snorts. "You're me kidding, right?"

But, Vanessa looks anything but amused as she stares back at him. Instantly, his boyfriend alarm bells go off in his head and he does the smartest thing he can think of. He tries to play dead.

"Don't try that silent-prey thing you do, Dan, I know you too well for that."

He sighs.

"Why are you and Blair spending so much time together?"

He snorts again, but when off her warning glance, he quickly sobers. "Vanessa, what are you even talking about?"

"I heard from Kelly Bryant on the second floor—"

"Well, that's a valid source."

"…that you two have been having movie dates together."

Dan chuckles. "They're not dates, Vanessa. We're just, I dunno, watching old films."

"That's what you and I do for about forty percent of _our_ dates, Dan."

More alarm bells. Then he does the only other thing he can think of: He begins sputtering.

"I-I don't think of her that way. I-I barely think of her at all. She's just…she's been going through a hard time lately with this crazy thing with Chuck and I-I'm just trying to help out, that's all."

Vanessa's brows have slowly climbing up her forehead during his whole monologue. "Since when do you get involved with Blair and Chuck?"

"I'm not, not 'involved', okay?'"

"No, you're just casually being non-involved with Blair every other night in her dorm room?"

"…"

"This is the part where you _do_ tell me that you and Blair are friends, or I break up with you, basically."

* * *

Eventually he and Vanessa clear the air. Eventually. After a lot of arguing and him having to insult Blair Waldorf more than even he is accustomed to doing.

Later he tells Blair about the Vanessa thing and they laugh, because it's stupid. Blair laughs much harder than he does, and again, he's relieved, but still.

* * *

"You're welcome," Blair says when mentions his application to the Tisch program.

He snorts, setting his mug down at the table between them. "For what exactly?"

"For inspiring your success," she hums sweetly.

He rolls his eyes, but he can't stop the small smile from slipping on his lips at the memory. After a moment, he concedes. "We did make a pretty good team."

"Team?" It's her turn to smirk. "I saved your ass, Humphrey."

"No, I saved your ass first, Waldorf. I wrote the play."

"And I kept the entire thing afloat. As per usual."

They go back and forth on this matter for more than a few minutes, before the conversation degenerates into name-calling and snark. After a few more coffees, and he and Blair argue over some pretentious New Yorker article, she asks him, "You want me to take a peak at it?"

"At what?" he asks squinting.

"You're submission, dummy."

She rolls her eyes at him, like it's all very casual, which really it's not, and for a moment he's too stunned to even respond. He's not sure whether he's more unnerved by the fact that she's actually offering—sans sarcasm—or that that he's actually considering it.

He doesn't say 'yes' right away, because that's not even how their whole thing works.

"Don't you have a fashion magazine to be devouring?"

"Actually, I was reading Fitzgerald."

She takes the book out of her purse and pins him with a smirk. "But, I'm sure there's no way he could be as stimulating as your work."

She bats her eyelashes at him and he smirks before sliding the manuscript over to her.

* * *

Blair's not a writer, but she loves literature and art, and he finds that it's refreshing to get a perspective so differently similar to that of his own.

Even if she does leave scathing, irrelevant remarks about his hair in the margins.

* * *

"We're not watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's _again."

He grumbles and tosses the offensive dvd to the foot of her mattress.

"What was that?" Blair tilts her head from across the room and squints, "You want to watch _Breakfasts at Tiffany's_ _twice_ tonight? Sounds great, Dan."

He grunts and ignores her.

"And, why are there so many pillows on your bed?" He asks, setting a few of them on the dresser beside him, "Are you hiding something under here? Like a buried treasure? Or a dead body?" "

"Even better question, Humphrey: Why are your _shoes _on my bed? Remove them or it will be your dead body in need of hiding."

He rolls his eyes, but begins sliding off his shoes without protest. She's Blair Waldorf. He knows the rules.

While he's removing his shoes, she perches on the edge of the mattress beside him, removing her own heels. And, for one fleeing, distracted moment, his eyes travel from the arch of her foot to her calf to her thigh, and just…kind of stay there before he snaps out of it.

Blair's sexy.

She dresses like a model.

There's nothing new about these things—they're just sort of facts. Like gravity. Or grammar. So he's not sure why they should catch his attention all of a sudden. He clears his throat and starts fiddling with a loose string on her blanket.

"Hey, get your grubby, peasant hands off my duvet," she hisses, smacking his wrist, "I just got that dry cleaned. What is wrong with you, were you raised on a farm? Oh right—worse, Brooklyn."

He bristles, because it's just one of many instances where she's managed to string several insults into one sentences, and then, yeah, he remembers why he hadn't fixated on the 'other thing' before.

She slides next to him, so that their shoulders are brushing, and now he's tense in a different way, but still tense.

"This bed is so cramped," she mutters.

His eyes flicker back up from where he's been watching her fiddle with the dress strap on her shoulder.

"What…? I mean, yeah, it's like bunk beds but worse." He hopes he's sliding into the snark as smoothly as he intends to. "At least you get a top and bottom bunk with those."

"Right?" she says and slips the DVD into the laptop, "I can't believe I've been exiled to this dorm room. You're so lucky you get to stay in your loft."

She says 'loft' and he realizes how soft of a word it is, at least the way it forms in her mouth.

He shakes his head. He's obviously coming down with something.

They do end up watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ twice. She falls asleep an hour into the second run, but lets her head rest on his shoulder halfway through the first watch. He realizes it's the first time that she's really touched—like honestly _touched—_him, and it just…it makes him like the movie more, that's all.

When he lets himself fall asleep with her, with her cheek pressed against his chest, he realizes that's probably a problem. But, it's different. It's nice.

* * *

**End Part I.**

**Feedback is much appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Words cannot express how flattered and stoked I am by all your feedback. Seriously, it makes a fic writer's LIFETIME to get comments on a story. So thank you. I'd actually been working on this fic for a while, but hadn't quite worked up the courage to post. So thanks for encouragement.

(Also, there might actually be two more parts, since in the re-writing process the story has expanded a bit).

* * *

_I didn't see you coming  
There were no signs of warning  
And you came from behind  
It's not right, it's not right  
You're not playing fair, I didn't see you there_

___**Part II**_

Vanessa starts inviting herself to movie nights. Which is fine. And it doesn't change anything all. Except there just wouldn't be enough room for all three of them on Blair's bed, so they start meeting in Dan's loft instead.

* * *

"Are we being chaperoned?"

Blair marches into his loft without him actually getting the door all the way open or inviting her in. But that doesn't surprise him. What does surprise him is what she's wearing: A lacey blouse and this skirt that's not scandalously short exactly, but is just kind of brushing up against her thighs in a way he's not accustomed to.

"What?" he finally gets out, blinking.

"Vanessa?" Blair snaps. "Is she your girlfriend or your mother?"

He's fully alert now and he straightens as Blair pins him with a scowl. "Excuse me?"

Blair huffs and sweeps the hair off her shoulder. "I'm just saying, you're an adult, aren't you? You can decide in what way and with whom you'd like to spend your time."

He bristles, because her voice is clipped, agitated. And, not the usual, playful 'I'm just barely deigning to be in your presence' agitation, but a new, sharper kind. Instinctively, it makes him agitated, too.

"I _am_ spending my time how I'd like to—with Vanessa."

It's her turn to bristle.

"And you," he adds after a moment, "For some inexplicable reason."

Her mouth parts like she's about to explode into some rant, when the loft door opens.

Dan doesn't know whether he should feel annoyed or relieved.

In reality, he just feels tense. He can feel Blair's glower at the back of his neck as he greets Vanessa in the doorway.

Vanessa gives him a peck on the lips and he tries to ignore that odd prick of discomfort at the thought of Blair watching it. When they pull apart, Vanessa's smile slips smoothly from her lips. She sends Blair a quick, curt nod.

Blair returns it.

"Abrams," she mutters.

"Blair," Vanessa says. Then her face scrunches slightly as she looks over Blair's outfit. "Am I under-dressed or something?"

It's not mean exactly, the way Vanessa asks it, but it's not nice either, and Blair's brows instantly jump on her forehead. Dan feels himself squirm, because he knows that look and he knows nothing good can follow it.

"No; not at all." She gives Vanessa her own withering once-over and hums, "Cute _Sketchers_."

Blair bats her eyelashes at Vanessa and Dan watches as his girlfriend's eyes turn a dangerous shade of black.

"Blair," he hisses, more out of panic than any real admonishment.

"What?" She shrugs. "I was just being polite."

"You're _never_ being polite."

He says it harshly and he tucks his arm around Vanessa's shoulders, which he hopes will soothe her somewhat. But instead she's looking at him with this hooded, questioning look and he can't even figure out why.

"Let's um," Dan clears his throat with discomfort, "Let's just get started, okay? This should be fun."

"I can barely contain my excitement," Blair mumbles, brushing past him on her way to his couch.

She smells like lavender.

Which is strange—that he notices it, not her smell. But, then he's distracted from the thought when Blair sets herself squarely in the middle of the couch. Vanessa sends him an exasperated look and he feels his cheeks heat slightly as he mutters, "Blair."

"What?" she asks, "I'm just getting comfortable. You said your couch was super comfy, right?"

She smiles sweetly at him and his cheeks heat with a different type of agitation; because now he _knows_ she's trying to get under his skin.

Frustrated, he sits to the left of her and then pushes her not so gingerly with his shoulders over to the right side, making room on the couch.

"Hey," she squeaks.

"Not everything revolves around you, Blair. You can't _literally _be in the center of everything."

It's again harsher than he'd normally be with her and without the usual buffer of snark or banter, but Vanessa's watching him like a hawk and he feels strangely self-conscious.

Blair, for her part, slams her mouth shut and looks away, pressing her hand to her chin with a scowl. Her shoulders are tense and he feels the sudden urge to, like, smooth a hand over them, to apologize, but he doesn't know what to do with that impulse, so he does nothing instead.

* * *

The movie lurches on. And on. He's sitting ramrod straight, because if he leans to the left, there's Vanessa—she's still kind of icy and PDA in front of Blair feels strange. And if he leans to the right, there's Blair, and she's _Blair_, and whatever random touching they'd started doing recently during movies was probably a mistake anyway.

By the time it (mercifully) ends, he feels like his back might snap in two.

* * *

They don't do movie night again for a while. And actually he and Blair don't talk for a while period. Which is normal and not that big of a deal at all and how things would have been anyway if not for him sucking at scavenger games.

* * *

"Hey," he says, standing awkwardly in her doorway.

Blair watches him through narrowed eyes, the opening of the door also narrow as she regards him.

"Are you lost or something?"

He rolls his eyes, because of course she'd make this difficult.

"I-I was just in the dorm, you know, around."

That sounds lame, even to him, and Blair looks equally unimpressed as she folds her arms across her chest.

"And? Vanessa's room's _that_ way," she says snottily.

"Blair," he chides.

"What? I'm just confused. I mean, you made it perfectly clear the other night how detestable you find my company…"

He huffs.

"How rude I was…"

"That's not even what I-"

"How I was ego-centric-"

"I didn't-"

"How my choice in movies was sentimental and trite."

"_Vanessa_ said trite, not me."

"Oh, right, Vanessa, our chaperone." Blair sends him a look of utter disdain. "Look, are we done here, because there's literally anything else in the world I'd rather be doing."

She shuts the door in his face. Or at least she tries to, because Dan sets his palm against the pane before she can close it.

"_Hey_," she squeaks in indignation.

"Don't be like that," he says, "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, okay?"

Blair bristles. "Ugh, as _if_ you could."

"Fine." He grits his teeth, forces himself to fight past the agitation before this ends in more door slamming and insults. "I'm sorry that _I _was rude then, okay? I just…I didn't want Vanessa to feel uncomfortable."

"So, what? You thought you'd just settle for making _me_ uncomfortable instead?"

"You weren't exactly helping the situation, Blair."

"But…" Her shoulders jerk up slightly, almost like a twitch. "I don't like her."

Then her nose scrunches, like a little girl, and it's so oddly and surprisingly cute, that for a moment he finds himself disarmed, despite the fact that she's just so obviously insulted Vanessa.

Dan blinks, shakes his head.

"She's my girlfriend," he finally says, "I…I have to take her feelings into account."

"And I'm your friend," Blair says.

If she's even half as stunned as he is to hear those words aloud, she doesn't show it, "And, so you need to take my feelings into account too. And I don't…" She falters for a moment, tucking stray hair behind her right ear, "I don't like to be treated differently when other people are around."

Her voices lowers at the end, her head ducking just the slightest, and it's like being kicked in the gut. He'd been so busy trying to placate his girlfriend, he hadn't really thought of how it might have made Blair feel.

His hand twitches slightly and then he sets it on the door frame, by her elbow, but not touching her. (He never touches hers).

"I'm sorry; you're right," he says quietly, but firmly, "I was wrong. I was stupid."

"You're always wrong and stupid."

Her arms are crossed, but her eyes have softened, just slightly.

So he swallows and continues. "And I didn't mean those things I said."

She arches a brow.

"I mean, I kind of did. You are, you know, rude and entitled and you're such a girl in your tastes, but…" He offers a sheepish shrug, his lips titling. "I like those things about you."

'I like _you'_ is what he's really thinking, but this conversation has already been weird enough, and he's not naïve enough to mistake Blair sudden willingness to admit their friendship aloud with permission for _him _to be "sentimental."

Blair's perfectly still for a moment. Then the smallest, softest smile tugs at her lips, before she bites it back. He feels his own lips tug in endearment.

"So…so what then?" She opens the door between them so that it's almost entirely open now, "We're not allowed to watch movies un-chaperoned?"

He snorts, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I guess not. But…we could do other things. There-there's this new exhibit opening at the Met…"

"The Kandinsky one?"

Blair cuts him off and he can't tell whose eyes are brighter, hers or his own, when he nods.

* * *

He and Nate are in the middle of playing (horrendous) one-on-one basketball on the quad, when suddenly Nate bursts into laughter.

"Dude," he breathes, "I promised Serena I wouldn't say anything, but _dude_."

"Are you high or something?" Dan asks.

He quirks a brow, because this _is_ Nate, so the question's always a live one. But Nate just laughs again and picks the ball up from the ground between them, clutching it to his chest.

"You and Blair, really?"

"What?" It's Dan's turn to laugh. "What are you talking about?"

Nate still has this stupid grin on his face. "Well, Serena and I were stopping by her place last weekend, to grabs some drinks."

"Thanks for the invite," Dan deadpans.

"…and Dorota said she was out."

When Dan still looks confused, which he is, Nate continues, eyebrows waggling, "With _you_."

Dan snorts, but he can't help the slight flush from capturing his cheeks at the way Nate is looking at him. He's donning one of his rare knowing looks, although Dan's not sure what Nate thinks he 'knows'. "No, no, man, no. We were just…probably at a museum or something."

"Right."

Dan rolls his eyes and slaps the ball out of Nate's grasp, because this conversation is stupid and he wants it over, now.

"Can we just keep playing? Unless you're tired of getting your ass kicked?"

Nate smirks. "Just be careful, Dan. That girl's dangerous."

Nate laughs and starts dribbling again. Dan laughs, too, although his words ring oddly loud in his ears.

* * *

He and Blair start spending more time together in public now. Because, they can't do movies alone in her dorm and because, it just makes sense.

* * *

"Okay, this is going to be the final draft, so be honest."

"Aren't I always?" Blair asks with a smirk.

He tries to smirk back, tries to do anything really that would even resemble coolness, but his eyes keep flickering back to the stack of papers in front of her on the table. Vanessa and he had decided weeks back that editing each other's stories was a no-go, so that really just left Blair for feedback. And, as much as he hates to admit it, her opinion isn't completely unimportant to him.

She seems to sense this, like a shark senses blood in the water, because it takes her another long moment before she finally breaks the silence.

"I think it's good—really good, Dan. It's sharp…and provocative and really true to life."

She slides the papers over to him on the table. And, when she sends him one of those rare, genuine smiles, he feels a rush of _something_ go to his head.

"I mean, obviously in great part due to my edits and contributions. "

"Yeah, yeah, those comments about my trouser socks really helped me turn a corner."

"You're _welcome_," she says with a warning brow.

He smirks. But then after only a moment adds, sincerely. "Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."

He fills the space before her response by ducking his head and slipping the manuscript into his folder, because this is _still_ Blair, and he has no idea what she'll do with such ammunition.

But, she doesn't say anything, which is odd. And, when he finally braves a glance at her, she's just sitting there, plucking grapes from her fruit salad and chewing.

* * *

Jenny's imploding again.

He loves her, but he feels like he's losing her more and more everyday. Things are getting weird between Lily and Rufus, and so Rufus is back at the loft more, sullen and silent. So when Vanessa's door is locked, Dan doesn't go home, he goes to Blair's room.

Her door's open and he enters without knocking, which earns him an arched brow from where Blair's perched on her bed.

"I think the janitor's closet's down the hall," she says in greeting.

He ignores her with a tired sigh and walks towards her on the bed.

"Do I have amnesia?" she says, her face creasing with confusion, "Did I forget the part where we became friends?"

"Blair," he says. He collapses at the foot of her mattress, his back hitting the fabric with a soft thud. "I don't have it in me to fight with you right now."

"Then why would you be in my room?"

He shuts his eyes in frustration. When the bed dips and he feels her shifting, they flutter back open and she's sitting over him.

"What's going on, Dan?"

She has kind eyes. She doesn't always show them, but he knows they're there, which is probably at least part of the reason why he's there, too.

"What is it?" she whispers.

Her head tilts and her brows crease with more concern and he feels enough courage to put himself out there.

"It's just Jenny going crazy again. I try to help her but she keeps pushing me away. And my-my dad and Lily keep fighting, which isn't exactly, new, but he won't tell me why; and I don't' know, it's just crazy at home."

It's silent for a moment and he feels a sting of self-consciousness. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Me neither," she hums.

He feels his cheeks prick with color and he considers leaving, that this was a mistake, when Blair reaches over and lays her hand against his chest. She has soft hands. Which isn't surprising exactly, but still.

She starts to rub gently, like one would against the belly of a cat, and it's surreal and nice, and when her nails trace along his torso it makes him tense and relaxed all at once. After a while, her ministrations steady and so does his breathing.

He talks some more.

Mostly rambling.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he wakes up, sprawled awkwardly at the foot of Blair's bed, while she reads _To Kill a Mockingbird_ perched up against her headrest.

* * *

When a new exhibit opens at the Morgan and he texts Blair, not Vanessa, he knows there's a problem, but he hits send anyway.

* * *

She makes him laugh, not just a little, but a lot; and, often, often abruptly.

And, it's not like he didn't know art was _fun_, it's just…like he's remembering it again all of a sudden.

So when she's in the middle of making some obnoxiously astute observation about _Scorpio Rising, _and her hair's kind of running with the wind, he says it without knowing why the hell he's saying it at all:

"He didn't deserve you."

She freezes.

Then her face is crumpling and she begins crying against the bench.

His eyes shadow, because he's convinced he's said the absolute worst thing ever.

(Later she tells him it's the opposite).

* * *

They start to tell each other private things.

He's still kind of afraid of the dark—in a manly way.

She doesn't really like to wear heels—but they're fashionable, so she does.

He's not a little kid anymore, but he feels like one every time his mother leaves him standing alone in the loft.

A part of her still hates Roman, because he's off with her father in Paris.

She tells him one night about some of the things Chuck has said to her, some of things that hurt the most. When he reaches over and strokes the tears from her cheek, then just strokes her cheek, she doesn't pull away.

* * *

Yeah, sometimes he thinks about her, even dreams about her, at night when he's in bed. But, he's in this Psych course now and he thinks that's normal, to dream about things that occupy your time during the day.

Plus, he's spending a lot of nights alone now. Vanessa and he have been growing apart for a while. And, after their fight over the writing samples, literature is just one more thing they can't share with each other. So, it just makes sense that she'd be on his mind less at night, too.

* * *

Blair finds him in the dorm hallway.

She's wearing this dress, which isn't new, but the way he notices how the color brings out the warm brown of her eyes is, so he's already kind of in this weird place when she approaches him.

"Hey."

It's soft, pleasant, the way she says it, one of those rare greetings she slips out for him, and the smile slips smoothly onto his lips.

"Hey."

"_The Dark Door_'s coming out this weekend."

She's full on beaming now, all the teeth showing in her mouth, and he suddenly gets what's provoked her rare burst of sunniness.

They've been talking about this movie for weeks.

And, it's not something he's acknowledged consciously, but now that the date's near and she's standing there, smiling, he realizes that there's an even larger part of him that's been waiting for weeks to go to see it with _her. _

So far it's been just movies on laptops. Often with Vanessa now, even if it's awkward. He hasn't even mentioned this movie to Vanessa and somehow it feels different.

"So…" Blair says.

He feels a pair of arms slip around his waist and suddenly it's Vanessa.

"Oh…hey," he squeaks and then tries to smile, because this is his girlfriend and it's a good thing that she's here.

"Hey, Dan," Vanessa says and presses a kiss to his neck.

He notices the familiar flash of annoyance on Blair's face, but that's as new as the sky being blue, so he ignores it.

"Carl Grisham's doing spoken word at _Blink_ this weekend_,_ so I'm totally kidnapping you."

"What?" "What?"

He turns to Blair, realizing they both spoke at once.

Dan sputters a bit. "Oh, well, actually…"

He glances over at Blair again, whose dress is somewhere between green and blue, and it suddenly makes him guilty to turn down Vanessa's invite. He knows it shouldn't, but it does, so he speaks without really thinking it through.

"Well, Blair and I were going to check out this stupid movie thing, but it can wait a week, right?"

"Oh." Blair's face flickers for a moment, her expression unreadable. But, then just as quickly, a smile slips on her lips. "Of course. It's stupid. Just some really pretentious, period piece."

"Sounds delightful," Vanessa says with a snort.

Dan tries not to winch.

* * *

He texts Blair later—a quick apology about the Vanessa thing and proposing another date, next Saturday, for them to go see it.

She doesn't text him back.

* * *

There's a guy in her lit class they always make fun of, Aidan. He wears knit caps and is more pretentious then the both of them combined. So when Dan hears via Kelly Bryant on the second floor that Blair's going to see the _The Dark Door_ with him this weekend, he's, well, 'stunned' doesn't begin to cover it.

"You're going with Aidan to see the movie_?_"

He's sort of cornered her in the hallway, almost pinning her back against the door she's just shut, but he can't help it.

Blair takes a moment to blink back surprise before regarding him.

"Yeah, so?"

"I just…I thought…"

He's clutching a book in his hands and she's looking at him with this cool, arched brow. He feels suddenly and unexpectedly small.

"I thought we were going together," he finally says.

She shrugs, like this is all very casual, which it should be, he thinks, but it doesn't _feel_ casual at all.

"You were busy," she says.

"And, so what?" His voice rises slightly despite himself, "You couldn't wait one week to go with me?"

"I'd already been waiting for weeks." Her voice breaks for the first time from the controlled tone she's been wielding, before she reins it back in. "And, no, I'm Blair Waldorf—I shouldn't have to wait for anyone or anything… " She offers a shrug, but it's jerky. "So I picked someone else. Someone with a car service, by the way.

For a moment he can't even bear to look at her. He feels…he doesn't know quite _what _he feels, but anger is definitely up there. "You can be such a spoiled, little brat."

Her breath hitches.

"I would have taken you, if you would've just-"

"Just what? Waited around for you and Vanessa to finish dry humping each other to Deaf Poetry Jam?"

"Hey-"

She leans in suddenly, her voice a fierce hush. "It's not just a 'stupid little movie thing' for me. And, it's not to Aidan, either—and excuse me if it makes me _bratty_ for wanting to go with someone who cares about it as much as I do."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"He's a theater snob. That's different from cinema." She huffs. "He completely lacks nuance, you know that, and he wouldn't even know what to talk to you about and—"

"I'm sorry I'm having trouble hearing all of this over 'private limo'."

Her arms fold like a fence against her chest and he bristles.

"Of course all you'd care about is the car service."

"And of course all you'd care about is Vanessa 'thrift store' Abrams."

They have fought and do fight constantly, but this fight is different. And he doesn't feel at all amused or witty as she shoves past him. (He just feels tense and he doesn't know what do with it).

* * *

The night before the opening, he can't sleep.

Well after 11, he texts her, which is weird and probably inappropriate, but he sends it anyway:

_i can tell V I already had plans if you want. stop being a brat._

A half hour later she texts him back and it's not like he's been sitting, ramrod straight at his desk, waiting.

_you're kidding me, right? U manhattan moron._

He tosses the phone across the room and spends the rest of the night writing stupid, broody passages in his journal.

* * *

Things with Aidan fizzle over pretty quickly. But it still hurts.

He never sees _The Dark Door_ and he wonders if she knows that.

* * *

"I'm still mad at you," she says, standing over him at a coffee shop table a week later.

"O…kay."

As crazy as Blair is, he's prided himself in being able to translate her insanity. But he can't think of a single reason why _she_ should be angry with him. Yet, before he can express any such sentiment, she plops in the chair before.

"Chuck put a dating fatwa on me."

"_What_?"

"It's a restriction on-"

"I know what a fatwa is." Dan rolls his eyes. "What I don't know is how he's getting away with this." His shoulders instinctively stiffen. "Do you want me to talk to him, is that-?"

She snorts, amused, and he can't help but feel slighted.

"Humphrey, please, I can fight my own battles. And this one, as well as the war, will be won as soon I find a suitable stand-in to kiss."

For a moment his mouth dries. She couldn't possibly be…?

"I heard you're going to some lame art event tonight? Let me tag along and all's forgiven?

"You want me to bring you to a party so you can find some random guy to make out with?"

"Yes." She blinks. "Is that a problem?"

_Yes_, he thinks.

But, the only thing worse than this, in his mind, is the idea of her doing this somewhere else, crazier, where he can't keep an eye out of on her (while slowly dying inside), so he relents.

* * *

So Vanessa's the reason he didn't get into Tisch.

Right, because his week hasn't sucked enough.

He ends up saying more about this than he should to a girl who has pull in the program and before he knows it, all the crap in existence is hitting the fan.

Right, because tonight wasn't going to suck enough.

Blair shows up at his loft wearing probably the sexiest thing she or any other woman on the planet owns and just—_shit._

* * *

"Okay, I must be second-hand drunk, because are you here with Blair?"

Dan turns abruptly, from where his gaze has been following said brunette across the room, and to his sister. Who, by the way, is also wearing something rather inappropriate.

"What are you wearing?" he hisses. "And who are you even here with?"

"Don't change the subject."

"There's no subject to change. I'm not here _with_ Blair, Vanessa's here, too I'm just keeping an eye out on her."

"Yeah, I can see that," Jenny says with a smirk.

He feels a pinch of embarrassment, like maybe he hasn't been as subtle in his observation of Blair as he'd hoped.

"Look, it-it's nothing. It's just Chuck being an asshole, as per usual."

His voice lowers at the word 'Chuck' and Jenny's brows quirk.

"Chuck…? You know, he's really not as bad as everyone paints him out to be? You should give him another shot."

She offers a shrug and Dan's actually too speechless to comment as she walks off.

* * *

Dan needs to settle the Vanessa drama, obviously, but his eyes still keep straying across the room, following Blair, so he finally just gives up and approaches her.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

She's startled, jumping slightly. "Stalker, much?"

"I'm not—"

"And, of course it's a good idea. You were the one who brought me here."

"I know that. But." He back straightens. "Maybe you letting some random guy shove his tongue down your throat is not the best way to spend the evening?"

"Okay, _dad_."

Dan rolls his eyes.

"Look, if you're going to be all mother-hennish, at least make yourself useful. Help me pick someone."

His eyes widen. "You want me to _help_ you pick someone to kiss you?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "You're a nice guy—you know, most of time—you must have some sort of radar."

She takes another swig from her drink and she just seems so damned relaxed about this and he just keeps getting tenser. He glances around the room as she suggests guys and it's like picking between a gun or a knife to end his life with.

"How about-"

"I don't like him for you either—look, this is stupid. This can't be the best way to handle the Chuck thing."

"I'm sorry," Blair says, her face creasing, "Did I somehow forget the part of the evening where I asked the guy dating Vanessa _Abrams_ for dating advice?"

Vanessa. Right. He has to deal with that, but this stupid fatwa thing keeps distracting him.

"Fine," he says. He's rushed and frustrated, like she always seems to make him lately, and he blurts out, "If you have to kiss a guy, then just kiss me and get it over with."

Her brows spike. "Are you asking me to kiss you?"

His stomach does this weird flipping thing and he pauses before shaking his head.

"No. No that's not what I—I mean, technically yes, but just…why kiss a stranger—who could have, like, gonorrhea of the throat or something?"

"Gonorrhea of the throat," she says, barely keeping the laughter out of her voice, "Sounds much more appealing than ever having my lips anywhere near yours. If I wanted to kiss you to break the fatwa, I would have already. You've been hovering around me all night."

"I have not been hovering." He bristles. "….and you couldn't have just kissed me because you wanted to. Last time I checked, you'd kind of need my permission for that."

She sets her jaw. Then suddenly she grabs the hair at the back of his neck and pulls, rather meanly, until his face is just inches from hers.

"I can do whatever I want," she says almost into his mouth.

He breathes her in and instinctively licks his lips. "So..." His voice shakes. "Do it."

"I don't want to."

She bats her eyelashes and then releases him from her abruptly, sending him tilting back, almost losing his balance.

His face feels impossibly hot as he stares at her, staring across the room.

"I'm going to makeout with him," she says curtly and starts to strut away.

He grabs her wrist, not as gently as he intended to, and says, "_Hey_."

She snatches it back."'Hey' what?"

His mouth opens and shuts. He realizes that he actually doesn't have anything to say. Or better yet, that he has plenty of things he wants to say, but he doesn't have a right to say them to her.

He just…he just wants to reach out and kiss her. But, that seems stupid and dangerous, among other things, and at the moment she seems more likely to kick him in the chest than reciprocate.

He says nothing.

Not that it particularly matters, because she's already started walking away.

* * *

He finally finds Vanessa and tries to stop the whole Tisch debacle, but it's too late. It's probably been too late for weeks now. For multiple reasons, not excluding one 95 pound blast of girly evil.

So when she tries to break up with him, he doesn't fight her; he lets her.

* * *

He's nursing a drink by the bar and his eyes are stalking Blair for the umpteenth time that night. She's wearing a dress with the back out and he's just decided to glare stupidly at her shoulder blades for no reason at all.

After a while, Blair's glaring back at him over her partner's shoulder and it's like every other staring match they've been in, but different.

She hasn't made out with this guy or anyone other suitor that for that matter, but her words still hang over him like a threat.

They continue their glowering until Chuck approaches her and then…

Well, even he's not big enough of a masochist to wait around and see.

* * *

He can't sleep.

He can't call her.

He starts to write again. Which he didn't think he'd be able to do again after the Tisch thing; and that's pretty much the only bright stop in what feels like an endless night.

* * *

**End Part II.**


End file.
